Page 8 of Caging Darling

I don’t want to go. But there’s something about the vulnerability in Victor’s request, something about the fact that he looks as if he really does want to spend time with me, even though I’m no fun to be around and I stink of a girl who’s lost all purpose in life, that has me wanting to say yes.

A hand lands on my shoulder, firm and warm and screamingminewith its touch. “I’ll take her out, don’t you worry,” saysPeter from behind me. When he wraps his arms around my waist from behind, the will to keep myself upright by the power of my own legs corrodes, and I dissolve into the sultry warmth of his chest, a more than eager crutch.

Pleasure at his touch creeps through my veins, gooseflesh skittering up my torso.

“You sure, Wendy?” Victor asks, holding his ground. Peter’s arms stiffen around me.

“I want to go with Peter.” The words glide out easily. Effortless. It’s a relief really, not to have to try.

Victor glances at the crook of my elbow and grimaces. I hope Peter doesn’t notice.

When Victor leaves, Peter leans over and plants a kiss behind my ear. It’s soft and gentle and adoring, inciting a feverish warmth throughout my body.

Why do you never fight back?

Because I tried that, and it wasn’t enough.

Because I’ve tasted so little pleasure in my life, I know the real stuff is unattainable. And I will settle for what I can get.

“What if I took you flying tonight, my Darling little thing?” Peter asks, his breath a warm whisper in my ear.

“You can take me wherever you want.”

CHAPTER 3

“Wendy Darling, you’re staring again.”

I blink, remembering he’s there for the first time. It should be more difficult to forget Peter. Especially since my hand is encased in his as we roam barefoot on the onyx beach.

But it’s always been difficult for me not to drift.

“I was just admiring the stars,” I say, which isn’t exactly a lie.

“But not any stars in particular?” Peter asks, starlight shining on the copper tones of his hair. His eyes are knowing, but he doesn’t want the truth.

He doesn’t want me to tell him I was staring at the twin stars in the sky. The warping in the Fabric of Neverland that leads to another realm. If you can just get to it.

He doesn’t want me to tell him I glance at those stars every time I find myself outside, even in the daytime. Peter doesn’t want to know I chart their position in the sky. That even when I’m facing away from them, I feel their draw like a hook in my spine.

He doesn’t want me to tell him that sometimes I see things that aren’t there. That sometimes, when the disappearing sunturns the sky the deepest purple, the clouds share an uncanny resemblance to a ship swathed in shadows.

He doesn’t want to know that sometimes I let myself pretend.

I don’t mind pretending so much. Because one day, I’m going to stare up at those two glinting stars, the ones that wink at me conspiratorially from afar, and he’s going to come for me.

I’m not sure what I’ll do when he does. How I’ll react. I’ve come up with a plethora of scenarios in my head. Most of them ways to hurt him. Scathing comments I know will cut.

Sometimes, in those fantasies, I let Nolan Astor kiss me first. I convince myself that he’d want to. That somehow, my absence will have made me more attractive. More desirable.

It’s where the kiss goes from there that my mind tends to rewrite, depending on my mood or how many hours it’s been since my last dose. Whether I cry into his cheek or draw back to scoff at him and spit in his face.

In the end, I always choose Peter. I have to.

But sometimes Astor drags me away. I kick and scream for Peter, for my Mate. I do everything within my power to get back to him.

But Astor is too strong.

Peter doesn’t want to know that, so I let the lie slip between my teeth. “I’m thinking about how John explained the warping when we first got here. A rip between realms.”

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